


Cultural Differences

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Foursome, Multi, Orgy, specialised interfacing equipment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a misunderstanding with a hotel owner during shore-leave, Fulcrum and Misfire a rescued by two mysterious Camiens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultural Differences

**Author's Note:**

> Commission from [Jhiaxus-soup](http://jhiaxus-soup.tumblr.com/)  
> Hope you like it :)

On the third day of their shore leave, Fulcrum made the mistake of assuming reading a pocket phrase book on the shuttle down to _Hycote 6_ gave him a comprehensive understanding of the local dialect. He knew what he’d thought he’d said, but what Fulcrum had actually said enraged their host mightily.

            Their accommodation was small and rustic and, in Misfire’s opinion, mind-numbingly boring. Needless to say, when they arrived at the quaint village high in the snow-capped mountains, Fulcrum was thrilled. It wasn’t overcrowded; the village harboured a pleasant balance of tourists and locals, which meant enough of the native culture was retained without it becoming unwelcoming to visitors.

            Fulcrum was eager to wet his pallet with a taste of foreign culture. Misfire complained a lot when Fulcrum dragged him out of recharge early yesterday to visit a fountain in the neighbouring village at _sunrise_. What cruel and unusual punishment was this?

It would be quiet, Fulcrum reasoned, and there’d be no crowds so they could take pictures.

            Misfire disagreed, those were not legitimate reasons to get out of bed before midday and he warned Fulcrum that he wouldn’t be making the effort again. After all, this was Misfire’s holiday too.

            To prove the trip wasn’t going to be all about Fulcrum, they elected to take the schedule planning in turns. Today it was Misfire’s day to choose what they did. First it involved a large, hearty breakfast, then, just as they were about to leave the hotel to explore the local trinket shops, Fulcrum couldn’t resist speaking a few foreign words to the hotel owner. From there, Misfire’s day of ease and leisure was spoilt.

            The hotel owner was a stout, blue creature with four arms. Two hands dual wielded brooms, which the owner whipped across Fulcrum’s head and knees, beating him out of the lobby.

            “Misfire, help!” Fulcrum cried.

            Misfire put his head in his hands and sighed heavily. The hotel owner continued to assault Fulcrum in the middle of the street.

            Luckily for Fulcrum, ‘help’ was sitting on the veranda of a bar across the road and, seeing the incident, came rushing to bridge the intercultural gap and resolve these poor tourists’ issues.

            Fulcrum and Misfire were surprised to see another of their kind step into the fray. A purple mech with a sweet face put up their hands and faced the hotel owner while speaking in a kind and sensible tone. Fulcrum didn’t understand the language they were using and wondered if any of it appeared in his apparently useless phrase book.  

            After some convincing, the hotel owner lowered his brooms and fixed Fulcrum with a devastating scowl. Then the alien spat at Fulcrum’s feet at stormed back into his establishment.

            Fulcrum’s saviour laughed.

            “Well, it looks like you’re not getting your deposit back.”

            Misfire stumbled over, gawking.

            “Wait! You’re saying he kicked us out?!”

            The stranger shuffled,

            “Apparently.”

            Fulcrum shyly ducked his head. It was usually Misfire who concocted such disastrous blunders. He felt ashamed of himself for causing trouble, but more annoyed that he’d given Misfire and excuse to goad him.

            “Hey, don’t feel bad about it.” The new comer rested their hand of Fulcrum’s shoulder, their soft lips forming a sensitive smile that made Fulcrum tingle on the inside. His optics brightened because of the stranger’s advance, “Why don’t you two come and sit with me and my friend while you figure out what to do next. I’m Nautica.”

            Nautica held Fulcrum’s hand. He thought they were coming in for a handshake and wobbled their whole arm, which prompted a frown and another laugh.

            Nautica took Fulcrum and Misfire across the street and onto the open deck of a bar. There were a few tall, heaters burning in the corners of the decking – they kept the veranda cosy against the high altitude’s cold.

            “Chromia,” They approached Nautica’s friend in a group. The fierce look of Nautica’s companion compelled Misfire to push Fulcrum ahead of him, “This is, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your names.”

            “Fulcrum.”

            “Misfire.”

            “They got into an argument with their hotel owner, what were you even trying to say to him?” Nautica sat opposite Chromia and Fulcrum quickly dropped into the seat beside them, which put Misfire next to Chromia. The strapping mech twisted their lips. Misfire sat a little straighter.

            “I was trying to tell him that we slept well and that the hotel room was…nice.” Fulcrum cringed and Nautica chuckled hard, slapping a hand over Fulcrum’s wrist.

            “Oh, well you definitely didn’t say that!”

            “Really? You seem to have a pretty good grasp of the language, what did I say?”

            “I’d rather not repeat it,” Nautica blushed, “They gave us some basic training in all the local languages at the academy, I used to think it was a bit pointless but it came in handy today.”

            “What part of Cybertron are you from?” Misfire asked because he couldn’t remember any of his education being that comprehensive.

            “We’re not from Cybertron.” Chromia spoke for the first time. Misfire perked up.

            “What?!” Misfire was in disbelief, “I didn’t know there were mechs who were built off world.”

            “We’re from Caminus.”

            “Where’s that?”

            “Sounds like you got a lot to learn, _femme_.” Chromia clapped their strong hand down on Misfire’s shoulder and made him flinch. For explanations to begin a round of drinks was called for and as Fulcrum felt somewhat responsible for their meeting, he offered to pay. Chromia seemed to find a grievance with being indebted to another but Nautica insisted it was fine. As conversations blossomed and spirits lifted they slumped into a system of buying rounds and soon, every new suggestion became a merry and curious new topic.

            “So what’s being a femme like?” Misfire asked Nautica but it was Chromia who propositioned him.

            “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Knocking Misfire into speechlessness had become a personal form of entertainment for her. Seeing Misfire scramble to collect his wits was amusing.

            “Perhaps we should settle the tab…?” Nautica suggested, there was a mischievous glint in her expression, the kind that prompted Misfire to waggle his eyebrows at Fulcrum. Despite having an underlying suspicion of how they were going to spend their afternoon, Fulcrum couldn’t help but mention that he and Misfire should focus on hunting down a new hotel while there was still light in the day.

            “Oh you don’t have to worry about that,” said Chromia, the intensity of her eye contact made Fulcrum wonder if there was an element of telepathy between Chromia and Nautica. They seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking.

            “Yeah, stay with us for tonight. You don’t need to worry about hotels yet.”

            “O-only if you’re sure.” Fulcrum said, overwhelmed by their generosity…and a little flushed from Nautica’s hand drawing circles round his knee. As she replied, the hand closed and squeezed.

            “Of course. It’d be our pleasure.”

            “It _will_ be your pleasure.” Misfire slouched back, a few High Grades down the chute and suddenly he considered himself a gift to the Fine Femme’s of Caminus.

            “You’ve got a big mouth.” Chromia dragged Misfire up by his elbow.

“That’s ain’t all that’s big.”

Chromia chuffed,

“We’ll see.” Once she’d settled their tab, Chromia and Nautica took them to their room.

            “This is nicer than our hotel was.” Misfire commented. It was true, the room was plusher, the two berths were bigger. Nautica took Fulcrum by the hand and they sat together in her berth.

            “I don’t think I thanked you properly,” Fulcrum was trying to keep his cool but Nautica’s advances were terribly difficult to resist, “F-for your help with the local.”

            “Haha, seriously, it’s fine you were just lucky I was around.”

            “I feel lucky.”

            Nautica smiled a little, her eyes dropping from Fulcrum’s eyes to his lips, which were parted so, so slightly as he leaned in.

            “Oi you two!” Misfire chimed, “This place’s got room service, you wanna order in?” He was already holding the phone and the menu.

            “Sweet gesture. But I don’t think that’s what they have on their mind.”

            Chromia was right, but Fulcrum was under the naïve impression he and Nautica would take themselves some place else. He wasn’t expecting to soon have Chromia’s lips tugging on his as well.

            “Say cheese, Pinhead.”

            Fulcrum’s optics grew, a camera flash immortalised his shock.

            “Misfire!”

            Chromia hardly seemed bothered and Nautica’s hands were still slowly rubbing between Fulcrum’s legs.

            “Must be strange having two,” she commented and pushed her fingers up into Fulcrum’s valve with little preamble but plenty of invitation. He felt her digits slide deep and wriggle in his warm insides and gasped, “Is that okay? That’s usually how I like to do it.” Fulcrum nodded, he was breathless and couldn’t defend against the charge of arousal that was overcoming him quickly, hugging itself round his thighs. Fulcrum squirmed on Nautica’s fingers.

            “What do you mean, ‘ _having two_ ’?” Misfire was attempting to take another picture, this time he wanted to be in it, but as of yet his attempts had been unsuccessful and in frame it appeared as if Fulcrum’s throbbing arousal was growing out of Misfire’s head.

            “As Caminens grow, when we get put into our largest frames we get the option to choose which interface we’d prefer.”

            “And you picked a valve?” Fulcrum surmised. He was easing into his role a little more, gently dragging his knuckles across Nautica’s plating and making her shiver. She nodded, her interface panel sliding aside. It glowed and a variety of sensors lined the outside.

            “Pretty,” Fulcrum commented, before embarking on a slow and tentative exploration. The outside of the valve may have looked relatively like what Cybertronians were familiar with, but the inside was special. They’d get to that, eventually.

            “What about you?” Misfire asked Chromia, “What you got?”

            “Put down the camera and see for yourself.”

            Highly curious and impishly smug, Misfire put aside the camera and got onto his knees. Chromia’s thighs accommodated him, Misfire shimmied closer and nosed at her closed interface, beside him, Fulcrum and Nautica were behaving like there was no one else in the room, rocking back and for on each other’s fingers and hissing softly. Misfire licked his lips.

            “Hey.” Chromia hooked a finger under Misfire’s chin and steered him back to her interface, “Pay attention to me,” she didn’t have much trouble holding Misfire’s interest from then on, her spike was growing large, it’s full girth brushing past Misfire’s cheek with a tingle of energy.

            “Woah.” He glanced up at Chromia in awe. Every luminous ridge of Chromia’s spike looked exotic and tasty. It was formidable thing but Misfire enjoyed a challenge.

            “Scared?” Chromia goaded, a rush of lustful pride made the biolights on her spike flash. She regarded the little mech on his knees eyeing her spike with greedy anticipation.

            Misfire’s body waggled,

            “Not even a bit, I’ve got a big mouth, remember?” and he lunged for the tip. Chromia threw her helm back in bliss, indulging, and thrust a little more of herself between warm, suckling lips.

            “Get me wet,” she ordered. Misfire’s optics rolled back and he moaned, “I wanna frag your friend and find out how mech valves compare to ours.”

            “He’s already is wet!” Nautic was bright with glee. She squealed and let Fulcrum roll her backward onto the berth. Three fingers deep and Nautica still felt incredibly snug – like she hadn’t relaxed enough… “Why is that?”

            “Huh?” Fulcrum couldn’t believe he’d started daydreaming. Truthfully it was for Nautica’s benefit – Fulcrum was worried he wasn’t doing his job right.

            “Why are you so wet? Are you leaking?”

            “W-What? D-don’t all valves get wet?” Lubricant was dribbling down Fulcrum’s thighs and smeared over his aft. Admittedly he did always think his lubricant production was a bit… _excessive_. But no one had ever pointed it out to him as abnormal before, so he just sort of assumed that it was okay.

            “Not ours.” Nautic twisted two fingers a little deeper in him, stroking in ways that made Fulcrum quake and, Primus-be-damned, produce _more_ lubricant. His face got hotter but he couldn’t stop thrusting back against her hand, forcing her knuckles to press on his exterior node, his spike brushed along her stomach.

            “I want to know what that feels like.” Fulcrum whispered, mouthing at Nautica’s collar. She groaned his name and arched up, Fulcrum’s spike got chaffed by the motion of their needy bodies rutting together.

            Acting on his needs, Nautica hooked both her thighs and spread her legs wide. Fulcrum leaned back to admire. Each twitch of Nautica’s valve made Fulcrum weak wish lust.

            “Are you waiting for something?” She asked, breaking the spell of amazement that trapped Fulcrum. He started and stuttered.

            “You’re very, ummm, beautiful?” He didn’t want to seem like another mindless dolt looking to stick his spike everywhere. In response, Nautica turned endearingly shy, making him want her all the more.

            “Hey! He’s never called _me_ beautiful before!” Misfire slurped off Chromia’s spike with trails of fluid dangling from his lips.

            “You two,” Despite trying to remain stern, Chromia was flushed in the face. The ridges on her hard spike had flared slightly, and a crackling ball of energy burned under every segment, “Don’t start without us.”

            “Sorry!” Nautica cackled and pushed up against Fulcrum just to make things a little more difficult for him. The head of his spike prodded her valve and a bizarre buzz of electricity tingled in the wetness dribbling from the tip.

            “I thought we’d already started?” Misfire was still on his knees and looked cheeky. On a whim Chromia grabbed him, and lugged Misfire onto the berth.

            “ _Oofft_!” As soon as his back collided with the recharge slab, Chromia was crawling over him. She bit his chest.

            “Are you going to be good femme?”

            “Mech!” Misfire corrected in a squeal. But who was he kidding? At this point he’d be whatever Chromia asked him to be.

            “So how do you want to do this?” Nautica asked as she stretched. Fulcrum was preoccupied ogling her affluent charms, he didn’t notice Chromia had receded from Misfire and crept up behind him instead, until her smooth hands clamped round his spike. She began urged him toward Nautica’s valve with the weight of her body pressing to his back.

            Not only her body, Fulcrum could also feel the musky heat of Chromia’s spike prodding between his thighs. 

            “What about me?” Despite the feigned rejection, Misfire didn’t look like he’d have much trouble getting off alone. His hands worked his spike quickly, but with all the lewd action performed in front of him, a sideline roll wasn’t enough.

            “Does your friend like to be fragged?” Chromia was steely cool and how could that be when Fulcrum was unravelling? His spike pinged him insistently to sample Nautica but Chromia’s hands were holding his hips back.

            “Please,” Fulcrum whined, struggling in Chromia’s grasp, “I don’t mind who does what.”

            Nautica did some sudden acrobatics, now her knees were draped over Fulcrum’s shoulders and the iris of her valve winked over the tip of his spike. Fulcrum keened.

            “Come on, Chromia!” Nautica was agitated by the warm pressure pooling in her valve, “I – oh! _Oh_.”

            Whether it was intentional or not, Fulcrum slipped forward.

            “ _Oh yeah_.” His lips parted and the tension in his body dissolved into bliss and every groan was louder than the last. Nautica’s valve was…smooth, Fulcrum noted. As he instinctually eased backward he encountered a less comfortable sensation. Somehow, he’d been sealed inside. Fulcrum was stuck. Nautica was clenching him too tight. Not that it didn’t feel unbelievable but concern jeopardised Fulcrum’s pleasure.

            Nautica stretched out her arms and reeled Fulcrum in for a kiss.

            “Shh, just relax,” She whispered. With all of Fulcrum swallowed up in her embrace, his aft was lifted and on display, the pasty lips of his valve tingling under the breath of the room’s air-conditioning, “I know you want to move but, just, for now, stay still. It gets better.” Nautica kissed his neck and Fulcrum waited for _better_ to happen.

            “Wanna get involved?”

            Misfire’s eagerness answered Chromia, he hopped behind Fulcurm on command, the curl of his spike dragging a hot wet trail up Fulcrum’s thigh to his aft.

“Get ready, Pinhead.” Misfire was shaking with arousal. Nautica’s fingers had massaged Fulcrum’s valve into an amenable slackness, which gave little flashes of his hot, slick insides.

            “Gently.” Chromia intervened, her slender hand guiding Misfire’s in-stroke so that his excitement didn’t jostle the two lovers beneath him, as Chromia also positioned herself for entry.

            All of Misfire’s insides squeezed downward as Chromia slowly filled him. The bulbous shape of her spike was greedily swallowed, all the lumps and bumps of Misfire’s valve absorbed her size and fed her energy to his arousal.

            “Oh Primus,” he panted, tongue out, “This…this is … yeah, I could, f-frag…mmmm, how’d you doin’, Fulcrum?” Misfire plastered himself over Fulcrum’s back, “You like being stuffed full huh? What’s she feel like? Is it guh – ahhh,” Two fingers appeared at Misfire’s lips, as soon as he let them in, Chromia curled them inside his cheek.

            “You really do have a big mouth.” She muttered, licking Misfire’s audio and thrusting upward. Her spike seated itself deeply and the four of them were crushed together by weigh and sheer, carnal need.

            “Are you okay?” Nautica whispered to Fulcrum.

Her valve was surreal, not wet and slick like a Cybertronian’s but it was tight, electrified and shifted in counterpart to itself – one segment twisted in one direction while the others swirled the opposite way, developing a mouth watering friction that tantalised Fulcrum’s whole girth. He didn’t even have to move, and, no matter how much of his girth filled her, she always felt so snug!

            The motions of Nautica’s valve and Misfire’s full spike twitching inside him made Fulcrum slump further over Nautica, close enough to kiss her – his strength being consumed by his charge.  

            “Mmm, ugh?” Misfire lashed his tongue between Chromia’s fingers. He was still trying to talk.

            “What?” Chromia removed her hand enough so as not to gag him, her fingertips dragged down on his lip.

            “Y-Your spike’s b-big- _guh_!”

            Misfire’s middle felt _full_. He moved in tight little circle as the tension of an overload mixing with the pressure of being stretched. The segments of Chromia’s spike flared, testing the elasticity of the quivering valve and as the segments neared their topmost expansion, they emitted wave after wave of static charge into Misfire, igniting an intense pleasure.

            He couldn’t resist rutting into Fulcrum, who in turn was pushed deeper into Nautica, the tip of his spike pressing against the hard stop of her ceiling node. She squealed and tensed up, the rotations of her valve increasing, stroking him faster and faster until every drop of transfluid was juiced out of Fulcrum’s spike.

            “Oh slag!” he sounded breathless, his overload having come unexpectedly. It wasn’t the kind that blacked-out his vision and made his head swim. If anything he was embarrassed.

            Nautica’s face scrunched up, her insides slowing to a stand still.

            “Are you okay?” Fulcrum attempted to heft his body up, but it wasn’t easy. Misfire’s spike was creeping closer and closer to his ceiling node. The anticipation made Fulcrum’s feet curl and his flaccid spike gave a weak twitch.

            Nautica cringed,

            “Yeah, it’s just…very wet…”

            “Yeah he is! AH!” Misfire was silenced, a hard pulse from Chromia’s spike cut him off and partially numbed his lower reaches… Misfire slipped free of Fulcrum’s valve and fell heavily onto Chromia, her spike spearing his insides, “Ahh,” The energy of Chromia’s stationary spike throbbed harder, filling Misfire with a wild, unbearable charge that lashed in his EM fields. He had to take hold of himself and stroke and stroke until…

            “Ahhhh…!”

            Nautica and Fulcrum watched Misfire shoot hot globs of transfluid up his chest.

            Chromia hiked up his thighs and displayed him as she partially released the reservoir of her spike’s energy. Misfire kicked and squirmed, the reflexive action of his valve gripping Chromia tight.

            “It’s alright, pet.” Chromia said over Misfire’s heavy and uncontrolled ventilations, “We’ve got all night to work on your stamina.”

            The wink Chromia threw at Fulcrum was accompanied by Nautica’s fingers sliding through the post-overload gush from his valve, which she sampled on her tongue.

            “Sweet.”

            Fulcrum gulped.  

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I really enjoyed writing this, especially the beginning part :p


End file.
